


The Body and the Blood

by IHeartSnuffles, IlanaNight



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bloodplay, Body Worship, Bruises, Choking, Church Sex, M/M, Priest Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4984045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHeartSnuffles/pseuds/IHeartSnuffles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IlanaNight/pseuds/IlanaNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The house of God is no fitting place for creatures of sin. And thus, naturally, it is precisely where Bill Cipher belongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Body and the Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phius/gifts).



> "you've heard of kink shaming on the ship now get ready for kink promotion in the church"  
> \- Phi 2k15
> 
> [ in the distance ] take me to chuuuuurch

The clerical collar was tight to his neck, an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation. By virtue of the institution, the fabric was blessed and left an imprint on his skin, just a surface burn, nothing serious. A bit of makeup, or a bit of a glamour, and no one would notice a thing.

 

Not many people went looking for demons in houses of God anyway.

 

It was quite the useful disguise, and an easy place to find new victims. Sure, it meant a bit more pain than usual here and there, but the demon had no problem with that. What was pain to Bill Cipher when compared to a near-endless supply of hearts to corrupt and souls to steal?

 

Perhaps most enticing was the knowledge that these men and women came to him for help, confessing their sins and begging for forgiveness. And forgiveness he gave in the form of an extended hand, a kiss to his knuckles as his eyes glowed bright gold, the sins washing over him like cleansing rain- ah wasn’t that irony sweet.

 

More often than not, it was those guilty sinners that were the easiest to tempt, so close already to their darkest points. A man came to him with blood on his his hands and dripping from his nose, freshly bruised from a fight.

 

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It’s been a lifetime since I last confessed.” And Bill’s lips were curled into a smirk, fingers tapping against the wood of the confessional wall, a thousand promises on his lips, a thousand whispered offers, a thousand ways to damn this man on the grounds of saving him.

 

The voice he used was soft and muted, a stark contrast from the piercing tones of his own voice, “Tell me, child. What sins have you committed tonight?”

 

It amused the demon how easily humans put their darkest horrors on the table, how swift they were to open their hearts to him once they saw the rosary around his neck, the crosses stitched into his sleeves.

 

A minute later and the man was sobbing into his knuckles, blood smeared across the skin. His cries were nearly indecipherable, a mixture of self-loathing and guilty admissions, and Bill’s fingers curled around his face, patting at the man’s cheek.

 

“Worry not, my child. Your father forgives all sins. All it requires is a kiss to my fingers and a promise, a promise you must swear to keep.”

 

“Anything, Father. I must be forgiven, I cannot fathom the torments of Hell, I cannot be condemned,” the man’s voice was a whisper, a plea, almost a beg, tears in the man’s voice and in his eyes.

 

A grin tugged at Bill’s lips and he straightened his fingers, knuckles raised to the man, “Repent of your sins and swear on your soul to never commit it again. A simple swear, and I promise you, you will never be tempted again.”

 

On his knees, the man grabbed Bill’s hand, pressing repeated kisses to the knuckles, “On my soul, yes. I’ll never hurt her again, I’ll never do this again. I swear on my immortal soul.”

 

And the demon took in a breath, eyes glowing a bright amber-gold as his hand flipped over, nails digging into the man’s chin hard enough to bite, “Your sins are forgiven, child. Go forth and be redeemed.”

 

When Bill pulled his hand back, his fingers were tipped red in the man’s blood, the nails sharp as talons as he raised them to his lips, tongue trailing out to lap at the blood, pupils narrowed into slits. As the man left the confessional, the demon nearly purred, veins thrumming with the acquiring of a fresh soul.

 

“Your sins are forgiven, child. But alas, the gates of heaven cannot open for you now.”

 

The blood on his hands was beginning to dry and a glance out of the confessional booth told Bill that the sinner was his last for the night. With a grin and a whistle, the demon stepped out of his box, locking the door and stepping up to the baptismal font. Taking the silver spoon in hand, Bill poured a spoonful of water over his bloodied hand, the holy water singeing his skin even as it scoured the blood from his fingers. When he pulled his hand away, the skin was faintly pink, peeling at the cuticles, a sting singing up and down the nerves.

 

A small price to pay for a soul well-stolen.

 

The demon was just returning the spoon to its holder when the door of the chapel opened, keys jingling in the lock. Looking over his shoulder, Bill let a smile turn up the corners of his lips as he caught sight of the young man locking the door behind him.

 

The choir master was early for his usual preparations.

 

“A pity, you just missed confessionals. I could have used a hand, there were a fair number of lost souls tonight,” Bill let his sleeves slip forward to cover the singed skin of his wrists as he set about putting out the candles around the confessional.

 

With a soft chuckle, the choir master pulled the sheet music out of his bag, setting it on the shelves in front of the pews, “Well, I’m not sure how I could help you with that. I’m not certified for anything of that sort. I just lead the choir, Father Cipher.”

 

“And you’re quite good at it, if I may say,” the demon’s smirk tugging up one side of his mouth. Candles extinguished, the man came to settle on the pew bench, watching the choir master as he worked, “You’ve never come to me for confessional… Can it be you live without sin?”

 

Whether it was Bill’s words themselves or the soft purr that accompanied them, the demon did not know, but nonetheless the choir master’s face flushed a deep shade of red as he looked down at the floor, fingers shaking, “N-No, of course not, Father. I… My sins are a private matter. Not… not something I am ready to confess as of yet.”

 

Curiousity coloured the demon’s expression as he looked over at Dipper, an eyebrow raised, “Not even between friends, Mr. Pines?”

 

Biting his lip, the choir master set his music down and sat on the pew, the bench’s length between him and the priest. With a sigh, he looked over at Bill, the smallest and saddest of smiles touching his lips, “Not even between friends. Which, by the way, if we are, you should just call me Dipper.”

 

A laugh escaped the demon as he shrugged his shoulders, “Dipper then. Don’t you know, Dipper, it’s poor citizenship to keep your sins from God?”

 

Flushing deeper, the choir master laughed and ran a hand through his hair with a shrug, “God knows of my sin, Father Cipher. It… isn’t God I’m hiding my sins from.”

 

The demon’s curiousity was piqued into something more like intrigue now as he leant over on the bench, resting his weight on his hands, “Then who if not your heavenly father?”

 

Dipper’s hands were curled into fists in his lap now, the choir master focusing on a point on the floor to avoid looking at the man to his left, “N-No one, Father…”

 

If there was one thing the demon had mastered over his years of maintaining his charade, it was knowing when a man was lying, and Dipper Pines had deceit written all over his face. With a charming smile on his face, the demon sidled over to Dipper, tossing an arm around his shoulders, “Lying’s a sin too, Dipper. Your list is getting long tonight.”

 

The choir master stiffened under Bill’s arm, breath catching in his throat as his posture drew tense, the flush on his face deepening to a near-crimson. “A-Ah well, what’s… one more sin for the day, right?” And his chuckle was nervous as he tried to shrug out from under Bill’s arm, still refusing to meet the other man’s eyes.

 

Humming, Bill ceded the point with a shrug, setting his chin on the choir master’s shoulder, “Well, if that’s the mindset you’re in, what’s one more sin indeed?” And the demon’s voice dropped down into a low purr as he nudged his shoulder into Dipper’s, mouth dangerously close to the choir master’s ear, “In that mindset, what does it matter how many sins you commit? They’re all equal in the eyes of God.”

 

And Dipper was nearly vibrating with anxiety, fingers clenched and biting into the palms of his hands, “W-Well… Some… some sins are deeper than others, Father Cipher.”

 

“Oh? And what sort of sins are those, Dipper?” Bill’s mouth wandered precariously close to Dipper’s ear, lips mere centimetres from the shell, breath washing over the choir master as the demon chuckled.

 

Breath catching in his throat, Dipper yanked his head away, covering his abdomen with his arms. Legs crossed, the choir master tugged at his collar, laughing with high-pitched anxiety, “Oh, y-you know… C-Cardinal sins. Wrath… Envy… Vanity… Things like that.”

 

“Lust fits in there too, doesn’t it, Dipper Pines?” And Bill was having none of the distance between them, letting his hand slip from Dipper’s shoulder to the choir master’s waist, tugging the brunet in closer to place his lips directly against Dipper’s ear, “Or are you too pure to know of that sin, hmm?”

 

Tugging at his collar again, Dipper made an attempt to stand, but Bill’s hand was quick to stop him, pulling him back down with his legs on either side of the demon’s lap. Gold eyes flashed brighter for a moment as Bill’s free hand came to rest on the other side of Dipper’s waist, mouth slashed open in a grin.

 

“F-Father?” Dipper’s eyes were wide, the choir master frozen under Bill’s hands as a maroon flush coloured his cheeks, a nervous sweat beading at the hollows of his temples, “What are you-”

 

But his words were cut off as the blond man tugged Dipper down by his hips, pulling the choir master fully into his lap. One of his hands abandoned the brunet’s hip, moving instead to grasp at Dipper’s collar and pull him down, claiming the choir master’s mouth with his own.

 

Dipper’s mouth opened wide in a gasp, allowing the demon to slip his tongue in and swallow the moan that cascaded from his lips. Bill didn’t need an answer to his earlier question, nor did he feel particularly inclined to answer the choir master’s inquiry, preferring instead to slip his hand under the choir master's shirt, fingers splayed out over heated skin.

 

The demon slowly ran his fingers softly up and down Dipper’s skin beneath the shirt, his nails catching on the human’s sensitive nipples, prompting another muffled moan to drip out of the choir master’s lips that were being hungrily consumed by the demon. Bill’s teeth nipped and tugged at Dipper’s lower lip, slick wet noises softly echoing around them from the sound of the two’s lustful kiss.

 

The question of lust required no answer indeed, if the human writhing in Bill’s lap was any indicator.

 

While the demon had no particular need for breath, he could not say as much for the choir master who was swiftly growing short of breath in his arms, catching little gasps and rasps of air here and there with little in between. Taking pity on the young man, Bill let up his assault on the brunet’s mouth, kissing his way over the choir master’s jaw and down his neck, teeth and lips finding easy purchase against the skin there.

 

Or perhaps it wasn’t pity, if the high-pitched keen that coiled up from Dipper’s throat was any indicator, the choir master’s head tilting to the side and exposing pale, unmarked skin to the demon’s elongating teeth. Bill’s mouth stretched into a lascivious grin as he nuzzled into the skin, soft for a moment before latching his teeth onto the juncture of shoulder and neck and prompting a harsh yelp from the young man in his arms.

 

Such sinful sounds had no place in the house of god, and Bill could almost taste the corruption in the air and on the choir master’s skin, could almost feel the young man’s soul under his fingers, black at the edges and blazing with lust at the core.

 

Somewhere in his heart, though, the choir master still held a sliver of resistance, a cracked and splintered moral compass that made a last-ditch effort to steer him back, his words coming out amidst gasps and breathy moans, brown eyes nearly consumed by lust-blown pupils, “F-Father Cipher… We.. We can’t do this…. We’ll…. we’ll be damned, Father….”

 

“Your heavenly father forgives all sins, Dipper Pines. What’s one more sin for tonight?” A low chuckle rumbled forth from the demon’s chest and onto the choir master’s skin, Bill pressing a kiss to the red mark he’d left on the man’s skin, “And besides, when has worship ever been an act of sin? Is that not what this is- a worship of god’s finest creation?”

 

The low, lust-filled words fell on Dipper’s ears like sweet honey, weighing him down and silencing the last embers of morality in his heart as he let his head roll back in sweet submission. With a sigh, he let himself melt in the demon’s embrace, eye fluttering closed as his breath came in rapid pants.

 

Head tossed back to the heavens, Dipper had no chance to see as Bill’s eyes glowed a brighter gold than before, a bit of blue fire flickering within them as he grinned. The surrender was all the demon needed to toss the choir master’s shirt aside, up and over the young man’s head, exposing an entirely new expanse of unmarred skin.

 

Needless to say, it would not remain as such for long.

 

Pushing the choir master back a bit and forcing Dipper’s back to arch, the demon abandoned his post at the human’s neck to kiss and bite his way down Dipper’s chest. A moment of attention was spared on the hollow of the choir master’s collar bone, teeth pressing into the skin just above the bone as Bill’s tongue traced over the ridges, dipping into the space at the base of the brunet’s neck.

 

The human in his hands was nearly lost in sensation, whimpered pleas and begs the only words that could fall from Dipper’s lips as Bill’s mouth wandered yet further downwards, stopping over one of the choir master’s nipples and paying the raised nub of skin special attention. Never one to do things by halves, the demon let one hand trail up Dipper’s chest, taking hold of the other nipple and flicking it between nails that were nearly elongated to the point of claws by the point, the heat and sin and darkness bringing out his true colours.

 

“Tell me, Dipper… Has anyone worshipped you before?”

 

To coax the man into answering him, Bill pulled away, their hips and his hands on the human’s waist the only remaining points of contact as he looked up at the choir master in his lap with slit-pupiled eyes. Dipper’s mouth was gaping wide, head tossed back in near-blank ecstasy as Bill’s fingers dug into the skin.

  
  


A bit of added pressure and golden eyes stared up at Dipper with a light behind them, hunger and curiosity warring in the demon’s grin, “I want an answer, son… Has anyone paid worship to your body, the host of your immortal soul?”

 

Dipper’s breath escaped him in a whine and he reached out to curl his fingers into Bill’s hair, tugging at the strands in an attempt to convince him to continue, but the demon was determined to get his answer. Realising he would be held in limbo until he spoke, the choir master keened and shook his head rapidly, trying to roll his hips downward for any sort of friction, anything to relieve the pressure, “N-no, Father Cipher… Never…”

 

If the demon had been enticed before he was practically _enamoured_ now, teeth itching to sink into Dipper’s skin and draw blood, to taste the innocence and feel it corrupt under his touch. It wasn’t often even _his_ allure could draw in a creature of true purity.

 

“It’s time we changed that, then, don’t you think?” And before the choir master could answer, Bill renewed his assault on Dipper’s chest, tongue laving at the already red bite marks, slipping into the valleys and ridges of muscle and bone, tracing and memorising every detail. The human in his arms was a mess, breath catching on half-uttered prayers for forgiveness and pleas for Bill not to stop, to _please keep going._

 

And Bill Cipher was never one to ignore such a blatant demand.

 

Catching against the choir master’s skin, Bill’s nails trailed down Dipper’s spine to curl around the front of his hips, toying with the waistband of the young man’s trousers. Red lines followed them down and the demon grinned at how quickly Dipper’s breath was coming, pants and ragged gasps, his whole torso flushed with exertion and sprinkled with teeth marks, red that would be purple by morning.

 

All in all, the man was looking rather debauched… And Bill had never seen a sweeter sight.

 

Looking up at his handiwork, the demon removed one of his hands from Dipper’s hip, letting his nails dig in for a moment more before the near-claws were at his own throat, tugging his collar away from the skin. The blessed fabric burnt his fingertips as he unbuttoned the collar, baring his throat and revealing the red marks which the collar had seared into his skin. The price he paid for the souls he collected without mercy.

 

Even in the haze of pleasure, Dipper’s eyes slitted open just enough to catch sight of the burns on Bill’s hands and neck as the demon slid the collar further from the skin and Dipper’s hand came down from the demon’s hair, trailing over the raised burn marks, still hot and wet with fresh blood. “F-father? What… What _happened?”_

 

Head tilted to let Dipper’s hand wander over the burn, Bill hummed for a moment before chuckling, dropping the facade and allowing his pupils to narrow to thin slits in the center of golden irises, no longer hazel but a bright, liquid gold. Looking up, those molten eyes met Dipper’s and caught sight of the fear there mixed with lust and adoration.

 

“Blessed fabric burns, Dipper Pines… But it’s nothing I cannot bear.”

 

Something in that sentence clicked with the blood on Dipper’s fingers and the slitted pupils of the priest’s eyes and a shudder passed down the human’s spine, terror mixed in equal measure with the lust that lingered, “Y-you’re… a _demon?”_

 

Another chuckle, this one darker and lower in pitch as Bill leant up, lips to Dipper’s throat, “Guilty as charged. You have deduced my deepest sin…”

 

Bill expected the man to run, was ready to watch him turn tail and scream, run straight for the archbishop to tell him of the monster in their midst, but all Dipper did was laugh beneath his hands, arching back with the most sardonic of smiles, “Another sin for my list… To fall in love with not only a _man,_ but a _monster._ Such _would_ be my lot in life…”

 

Of all the reactions the demon expected, this had not been on the list, the resignation and the acceptance and the fear that slipped away to lust again. Bill’s head tilted in curiosity, eyebrow raised above slitted golden eyes. “Will you not run, then? Will you not scream of my discretions to the heavens above and call down righteous fury upon me?” Humour touched Bill’s tone, the demon’s mouth stretched in a smirk as he looked up at the human whose hips still rested under his palms.

 

“No point in running now, I may as well enjoy this betrayal. If I’m going to hell, I’m going down laughing,” And there it was, the confirmation once again, Bill’s eyes flaring a bit brighter as the demon laughed, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“A fair point, choir master. A fair point indeed,” Facade unnecessary now, the demon let his canines elongate into fangs, the pointed teeth threatening to slip into the skin of his lips and break it, “I promise you, your journey to hell will be the _most_ memorable I can manage.”

 

Before Dipper could respond, Bill lifted him by his hips and stood, the demon holding the choir master tight around his waist. Claws bit into Dipper’s hipbones and in an instant the pair was up off the pews. Faster than any human could move, the demon had Dipper sitting atop the altar, Bill standing between his legs and attacking his neck again, teeth sinking into the skin and drawing blood, the iron and salt taste intoxicating him like sweet wine.

 

In a mixture of shock and pleasure, Dipper’s head rolled back, eyes slipped closed as a groan escaped his lips. His hands came up to twine into the demon’s hair, tugging Bill impossibly closer, nails digging into the demon’s scalp with every swipe of Bill’s tongue, every press of Bill’s teeth into his skin.

 

With renewed vigour the demon took claim of the choir master’s skin, leaving not an inch untouched. Where teeth did not suffice, lips and tongue took precedent, Bill’s mouth pressed in open-mouthed kisses against the skin, memorising the heat and scent and taste of Dipper’s skin. Freshly turned sinners always tasted the sweetest.

 

Even in his lust-driven madness, the choir master found a bit of presence to notice the imbalance between the two, tugging at the unbuttoned collar of the demon’s robes, “Aren’t you a bit… _overdressed,_ Father?”

 

A chuckle tore its way up the demon’s throat and he pulled away, letting his hands linger against Dipper’s sides, clawed fingers tracing designs and raising red marks on the skin, “Am I? I think I’m quite well-attired for a night of _worship.”_

Dipper’s hands slipped under the robe at the neck, tugging it away from Bill’s skin and revealing yet more reddened, burnt flesh with a shake of his head, “Not for this kind of worship, Father. I think there’s another uniform for this ritual.”

 

The cool air of the cathedral was soothing to the fresh burns on the demon’s flesh, a sharp contrast to the sticky heat of the blessed fabric darkened and damp with blood. Arching into the sensation, the demon allowed Dipper’s hands to tug more of the fabric away, the buttons slipping free of their casings and more of his skin becoming visible. The robe was made quick work of, along with the thin undershirt the demon was wearing, tossed over his head before Bill was done being played with and hopped back up to the altar, grabbing Dipper’s jaw and pressing their mouths together in a kiss.

 

Burnt skin pressed tight against bloodied and bruised, not a hairsbreadth of space between their torsos. Both hissed in a mix of pain and pleasure at the sensation, a burning and a searing sort of heat, teeth biting into lips as low growls and soft whines escaped the pair.

 

For a long moment, the demon was contented with this, Dipper’s throat under his hand and Dipper’s hands digging into his shoulders, tearing at the already peeling skin as their mouths slotted together like pieces on a puzzle. He could taste blood and salt and fire and darkness and it set a heat in him like nothing else, burning through his patience.

 

Leaving one hand at the choir master’s throat, tight enough to shorten Dipper’s breath to gasps, the demon pulled away, lips bruised and bloody from the kiss as he took a moment to admire his handiwork.

 

The human’s hair was disheveled, sticking out from his head at odd angles and mussed in places, framing Dipper’s flushed face in a halo of spikes and curls. A patchwork of splotches coloured Dipper’s neck and torso, some bright red and others already fading to purple and black, teeth marks visible at their centers, blood flecking the skin in more places than one. The human’s chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, stomach muscles flexing with each breath as Dipper tried to no avail to catch his breath, prevented by the slim fingers circling his neck tight enough to bruise.

 

“Oh, now don’t you look _ravishing_ , Dipper Pines… _More_ than good enough to _eat,”_ And to match his words, the demon’s tongue snuck out to lick along his lips and teeth, smearing the blood that lingered there, “A veritable feast for this day of saints, wouldn’t you say?”

 

The whine that coiled its way up Dipper’s throat in response was strangled and cut off, vibrations against the demon’s fingers as Dipper arched into Bill’s hand, neck bared and mouth open wide. His pupils were blown wide, black nearly swallowing the brown as Dipper stared up at Bill, panting out half-formed moans.

 

The demon’s spare hand wandered down Dipper’s torso, catching clawed fingers over the hills and valley’s of the choir master’s chest, counting down Dipper’s ribs and caressing each one, curling his fingers around them until there were no more bones to count, simply trailing his claws over pale skin, in from the side to rest just above the choir master’s waistband, claws picking at the fabric with purposeful swipes. Slim fingers toyed with the button there before simply slipping under the waistband itself, the pads of Bill’s fingers ghosting over the skin just below.

 

Dipper was in no state to be teased, another whine forcing its way up through his bruised lips as he reached out, grabbing hold of Bill’s hips with a gasp of breath, arching into the hand at his throat and at his hips, “P- _please_ , Father Cipher…”

 

Without changing the position of his hands, Bill leant forward and pressed his lips to Dipper’s ear, chuckling against the skin as his fingers continued to tease at the skin of the choir master’s upper thighs, “You’ll need to be a bit more _specific_ than that, choir master. There are a _dozen_ ways I could _please you_ from here.”

 

Again Dipper’s eyes rolled back, a frustrated groan accompanying the action this time as his hips shifted in an attempt to coax the demon to slide his hand a little lower, to relieve even a bit of the pressure coiling in his abdomen. But Bill would not budge, mouth curled up in a lascivious grin, lips just touching the human’s ear as he waited for the continuation of the choir master’s plea.

 

Nearly a full minute of gasps and cut-off whines later, Dipper found the presence of mind to put his words together, turning his head as best as he could to choke out a reply, _“Please,_ Father… Purge me of my sins… Throw me into the pits of hell… And drag me down into it.”

 

The laugh that tumbled from Bill’s lips was loud in the relative silence of the cathedral, his eyes flashing again and this time, for the shortest of instants, Dipper’s flashed too, gold behind the deep chestnut brown. Bargain met, the demon tightened the hand around Dipper’s neck, silencing him and causing him to hiss in the slightest of breaths as Bill abandoned the choir master’s ear in favour of claiming his lips in another searing kiss, feeling the breath slip from the human, feeling his heartbeat slow.

 

Just before the edges of Dipper’s vision began to fade, the demon’s hand pulled away and air flooded back into the choir master’s lungs. Dipper took his breaths in quick, deep gasps, stars in his vision and Bill took the moment of distraction to snap his fingers, blue flames flashing for a moment and scorching through the seams of Dipper’s trousers, the scraps of fabric falling to the ground, still singed at the edges, leaving the human bare as the day he was born against the marble of the altar.

 

A shiver passed down the human’s spine at the sudden exposure, cold marble and chilled air against flushed skin as the demon peered down at him through half lidded eyes. Bill’s tongue flickered out to moisten his lips as he reached out, stroking a single claw down Dipper’s face, the touch nearly soft enough to be a caress were it not for the sharp slicing nail that followed. Fingers wandered down Dipper’s face and slipped into the human’s mouth, a smirk on Bill’s lips.

 

Spoken commands were unnecessary at this stage, Dipper’s tongue twisting around the slim digits in his mouth and coaxing a soft moan from the demon’s chest. Bill basked in the sensation for a moment until he was content, pulling his fingers free with a satisfying ‘pop’.

 

Another snap of his free hand had his own slacks falling to the floor in similar tatters to Dipper’s, fabric burnt and curling as he stepped forward. Free from the blessed fabric in its entirety, Bill’s skin began to heal, burns hissing against the air. Dipper’s breathing had evened out now and he leant back on his elbows to watch the demon saunter forward, mouth slashed open in a lascivious sort of hunger.

 

He didn’t have a moment to comment on the demon’s physique, though, before Bill was pushing him backwards onto the altar fully, the demon splaying Dipper’s limbs to each corner of the marble slab. Settling himself on the human’s thighs, Bill took hold of Dipper’s wrists and lashed them to the marble, strips of flaming cord securing the choir master’s wrists above his head.

 

“A sacrificial lamb, brought straight to my altar for slaughter… What a _gift_ I have been given this night…”

 

Preparations finally complete, the demon settled himself fully over the choir master, kissing up Dipper’s throat as his hand wandered down, teasing its way between the choir master’s legs. Coaxed by the demon’s ministrations, Dipper’s legs twitched further open, allowing the demon full access, which Bill was quick to make use of.

 

Placing his mouth over Dipper’s and slipping his tongue in to distract the choir master, the demon carefully pressed a single moistened finger into the tight ring of muscle. This prompted a gasp from the human, though Bill swallowed it up along with the moan that followed.

 

Bill waited until the choir master’s posture loosened again to curl that finger inwards, searching for the bundle of nerves that would make the young man see stars. It took a moment of open mouthed kisses pressed to Dipper’s neck and shifts of the hand before the choir master’s back arched off the altar, eyes opening wide before rolling back, a whine ripping its way past Dipper’s lips. Grinning, Bill took note of that place and made special effort to brush against it each time, curling his finger a few more times before slipping in a second.

 

A string of muttered prayers and curses spilled forth from Dipper’s lips, incoherent and jumbled and the demon laughed, shifting up to lean over Dipper and stare down into his eyes, barely open in ecstasy. _“God,_ Cipher…”

 

“Not quite, Pines, not quite. But I’m _flattered_ by the comparison,” Bill’s voice dropped into a low, teasing tone as he pressed a kiss to a particularly strong bruise on the choir master’s throat.

 

Another few curls and presses of his fingers and Dipper was sighing and moaning, hips arching up into his hands. The choir master was close to writhing, trying to seek purchase in any friction he could find.

 

Slowly, Bill slid his hand back before shifting his posture so that he was kneeling fully over Dipper, molten gold eyes staring down into brown with a sinful hunger. To draw Dipper’s attention upwards, Bill took hold of his neck again, cutting off his breath as he kissed the side of Dipper’s face and jaw. The choir master gasped, nearly choking as Bill used that moment to slide into the brunet.

 

Despite the distracting sensation of a hand at his throat, Dipper tensed at the intrusion, groaning in a mixture of pain and pleasure as his spine arched, shoulders pressing into the marble and torso twisting off of it. Bill pressed him back down by the hand at his neck, putting his weight into the hold and stilling his hips to allow the human to adjust, idly kissing along Dipper’s cheek down to his mouth, _“Laxo,_ Dipper… It’ll be easier for you that way.”

 

Perhaps the command was easier made than followed, but eventually, the choir master’s posture loosened, his eyes slowly opening as he looked up at Bill before shifting his hips, “M’ready, Cipher… Take me to hell…”

 

“Gladly, Dipper Pines. Mind, body, and _soul.”_ And with that, Bill let his hand slip lax again, freeing Dipper’s breath as he pulled his hips back before slamming them forward, falling into a rhythm with ease.

 

Bill’s hips were merciless and his mouth wasn’t much kinder, revisiting the fresh bite marks and bruises, worrying them with his lips and tongue. The combined sensations had Dipper arching up off the altar again, mouth opened wide in a silent scream. With a particularly harsh thrust, Bill broke that silence, Dipper yelping before groaning out his name.

 

Hands bound, the human could do little to pull Bill closer, but his legs were free to wrap around the demon’s waist, preventing Bill from pulling back more than a few inches. Feet crossed and laced in the small of Bill’s back, the choir master arched as high as he could. His words came in broken phrases and pleas between gasps and ragged breaths, “F-father Cipher… _please_ … don’t stop… Please….”

 

The begs and pleas had a warmth coiling in Bill’s stomach, a growl ripping its way past his lips as he pressed them to Dipper’s neck, “Wouldn’t _dream_ of it, kid.”

 

He intended the exact opposite, in fact, rolling his hips with ruthless abandon. His hands wandered down to Dipper’s hips again, gripping just above the jutting hipbones and pulling them up to meet his thrusts, claws digging deep enough into the skin to draw blood, certain to leave marks.

 

Dipper’s moans echoed off the walls of the cathedral, his eyes rolled back into his head and his hands clutching at the edge of the altar, anything to hold on and ground himself. “C- _Cipher_ I’m… I’m going to…”

 

Grinning, Bill cooed softly, kissing the darkest bruise on the choir master’s neck, “Let yourself go for me, Dipper Pines. Let yourself _go.”_

 

And with his last word, he took hold of Dipper’s throat again, sinking his teeth deeply into the choir master’s shoulder, snapping his hips forward in time with constrictions of his fingers, letting Dipper’s breath in and out in short intervals, each one higher pitched and closer to a keen than the next.

 

A shift of angle and Dipper arched, head falling back and eyes rolling up to the ceiling as he screamed, clenching around the demon and tugging Bill down with him, blood filling the demon’s mouth. A flash of golden light accompanied Bill’s climax, every candle in the cathedral lighting with blue fire as he collapsed onto the choir master, both of them spent.

 

“Welcome to hell, Dipper Pines.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> [ in the distance ] i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your triangles


End file.
